Meat
by thatisadorable
Summary: Scott and Derek keep attacking Stiles. What does his scent have to do with it? Lots of Hurt!Stiles.
1. Chapter 1

**There are too many slash stories and not enough of Stiles getting hurt! Here you go! Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf**

It was the night after everyone was locked inside the school. Stiles had snuck into Scott's room, waiting to talk strategy about the whole "killing his pack" thing. Stiles had been thinking about it all day and really needed to talk to Scott about it. He was worried more than ever. He sat at Scott's desk waiting for him to come home from his date with Allison. He heard the front door then footsteps followed. Scott entered his room and jumped when he saw Stiles there.

"God, Stiles! Give me a freaking heart attack!" he half shouted at his friend who evidently, ignored his comment and started talking.

"Look dude, I think we need to start thinking of a plan to keep your emotions in check, now more than ever. I have a feeling that when the time comes…Allison might not be enough to bring you back." Scott shook his head and looked away.

"No, no, she is all I need. Trust me. When we were in the school, and I almost killed you guys, she _still _brought me back. Even though it only helped a little bit that time, it's better than nothing."

"But that's just it, Scott! We have to have 'better than nothing.' She won't be able to bring you back every time. You know why? Because you'll want to kill her too." Scott's face contorted with anger. "Don't say that! I would never hurt Allison!"

Stiles lifted his hands up in the air in defense. "Whoa Scott, easy now. See this is what I mean; your emotions are ever more on edge. We need a plan, strategy, something!" Scott started pacing in his room. He tried to think of a plan, but his mind kept going back to the thought of him hurting Allison. The thought made him want to throw up. But most of all, it made him mad. He was mad that he was cursed with this damn thing. He was mad that everything he touched got hurt. Most of all, he was mad that Allison was in danger because of him. His blood boiled inside himself with self-hated and anger. He felt like he needed to punch something, anything. He looked back at Stiles, who had noticed his friend's sudden change in mood. Stiles started to slowly approach Scott.

"Easy now, Scott. See, this is what I was talking about…" Scott put his hands to his head.

"Shut up, just shut up! I need to just…" His sentenced slowly drifted as his fingernails began to grow into claws and his eyes started to change. Stiles backed up against the wall.

"Scott, relax. Just think of Allison." He said in a calm, yet shaky voice. But the more Scott thought of Allison, the more he thought of hurting her. He let out a growl of frustration and eyes Stiles across the room. That urge to kill someone started to creep into his stomach. That lust to spill blood and rip apart limbs. He tried desperately to fight this feeling, but it was overtaking him. He jumped over to Stiles and gripped his neck, pinning him against the wall. Stiles tried to pry his hand off, but it was clearly not budging.

"Scott," he said in a raspy whisper. His claws were digging into Stiles' neck while his grip slowly tightened. Scott's eyes gleamed with satisfaction with the weak figure in his grasp. He could hear the rapid heartbeat of his friend; smell the sweat that started to form on his forehead. He could see the fear etched onto Stiles' face and felt his legs squirming beneath him. Stiles was terrified, and he was right to be. Scott menacingly smiled at his friend as he licked the blood that started to trickle from his neck. Stiles let out a panicked gasp, thinking that Scott was going to bite him. He felt his tongue skim his neck and he felt the immediate urge to vomit. His heartbeat quickened. Scott noticed all these changes and laughed. He looked Stiles, and then threw him across the room. Stiles roughly hit Scott's desk, knocking over everything that lay on top of it. Stiles tried to run out of the room but Scott was too quick. Scott ran in front of him and grabbed Stiles by his shirt and threw him out the second –story window.

Stiles landed on the ground with a thud. He immediately felt immense pain in his arm, chest, and legs. He could already tell that his arm was broken and that he had at least sprained his ankle. He started to stand up but it was far too painful. He decided to crawl instead. So, in a panicked state, he tried to make it over to his jeep, hoping to escape. Scott watched his friend pitifully try to crawl away and smiled.

"This is fun." He said to himself. He jumped out of the window and landed on Stiles' back. Stiles cried out in pain. Scott grabbed his arms and pinned them above his head with one hand. Stiles started to shake.

"Please Scott. It's me, your best friend, Stiles." He said in a pleading manner. Scott only responded by dragging his claw down Stiles' back, slowly and painfully, digging deep into his skin. Stiles screamed in pain while a few teardrops trickled down his cheek. Scott leaned down and licked those up, too.

Scott looked down at him and whispered in his ear. "I could kill you right now, you know. But what fun would that be?" He said as he continued to scratch Stiles' defenseless body. He reached the back of his pants and grabbed the top of it. "I could torture you slowly. Beat you. Cut you. Chase you…rape you."

Stiles' breath caught in his throat at the word 'rape.' Scott's hand remained at his pant rim and he started to shake even more.

"Please, Scott. Please don't!" he shouted as more tears rolled down. The thought of his best friend raping him made him rather wish he was dead. Scott flipped Stiles over onto his back and grabbed his neck again. He looked down at his prey. Then a thought crossed his mind. No, he wouldn't kill the little weakling. Well, not yet at least. He would relay a message to the others, letting them know exactly what they were to him. At that thought he slowly ripped Stiles' shirt open to his bare chest. He took one claw and began to slice the soft flesh. He held one hand over Stiles' mouth to minimize his screaming. He needed to concentrate, after all. Once Scott was done, he leaned down to him and whispered "run" into his ear. Stiles immediately stood up and started limp/running toward his car.

"Now for the chase." Scott said. As Stiles was running, he started to dig for his cell phone in his pocket. He grabbed it with shaky, bloody hands and pressed his dad's speed dial. 'Damn it! God damn voicemail!' he thought in his mind. After the beep, he started to leave his message.

"Dad! Goddamn, pick up!" he yelled in hysterics. "Please help me, I'm at Sc-" but before he could finish Scott pushed him against his car, knocking the phone out of his hand and causing it to break. Stiles dropped to his knees in front of Scott.

"Please Scott, please. Don't kill me…" he said as he started to cry. "I don't want to die. Not yet. Please! I'm begging you."

Scott looked down at the sad sight before him and something inside him changed. That urge to kill, suddenly just vanished. He was left with confusion, looking down at his broken friend. Scott's face was plastered with fear and panic.

"S-Stiles?" he asked, as if he was making sure his friend was still there. He tried to crouch down to his friend but Stiles only backed up in fear, tears still streaming down mixing with his blood. Scott began to tear up with guilt.

"Please Stiles, I'm…I'm so sorry." He said as his tears came quicker. Stiles looked up at Scott and opened his torn shirt for Scott to see.

"What did you write?" was all that he could manage to say. Scott looked down at Stiles' bloody chest and read the single word that was scarred into his flesh.

"Meat."

**Aww poor Stiles review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**WOW. I did not anticipate the amount of views/reviews that this story was going to get haha. I meant to keep it a oneshot, but what the hey, right? I think I can work with the story a little bit! Thanks for all the reviews, by the way. You're all awesome! **

**Disclaimer: don't own Teen wolf**

Stiles lay against his car holding his broken arm against his torn up body. His cheeks were stained with tears, while the rest of his body was stained with his own blood. His shirt as ripped open, baring his new scars. His heart rate had gone down, but he was still scared out of his mind. Scott kneeled in front of Stiles, tears still in his eyes. His hands had Stiles' blood smeared all over them.

"Stiles, I'm so sorry! I had no idea what I was doing, I couldn't control myself! Please Stiles, it wasn't me; I would never hurt you! I'm so sorry…" Scott's words started to ramble. He couldn't stop apologizing. Whenever he looked down at Stiles, he still saw that fear in his eyes, as if Scott was just messing with him. Stiles was trying to hide his fear, though. Unsuccessfully, of course. Stiles knew that wasn't Scott, his best friend, who had just attacked him. He knew.

"Scott," he started in a weak voice, "it's okay. It's…it's not as bad as it looks, really."

"Please, Stiles, let me help you. I'll take you to the hospital!" Scott started to move toward Stiles to help him up but Stiles jumped back when he touched his arm. Scott immediately pulled back, guilt written even more on his face. Stiles knew he was only trying to help. He half smiled at his friend, trying to make Scott forget about his trembling body.

"I would feel better if I just called my dad. I left him a pretty freaked out message, after all. But I need to use your phone. Mine is, umm, broken." Scott nodded in agreement and handed Stiles his own phone. Scott started pacing back and forth, running his hand through his messy hair, continually glancing back at his best friend. Stiles dialed his dad's cell number, and he actually picked up this time.

"Hi dad," he said, while his voice continued shake when he spoke. "No, actually I need your help. I'm at Scott's…Well I, uh…um" Stiles struggled for words while tears started to form in his eyes. He quickly swiped them away before Scott could see them, even though he knew he already did. "I was attacked, by, uh, some guy…Yeah, I do…No Scott is fine, it's just me…Okay dad." Stiles hung up the phone and tossed it back to Scott.

"Five minutes away." He said, trying to regain what little composer he had left. Scott stopped pacing and decided to sit with Stiles while they waited. When Scott sat down next to Stiles, he could hear the quick intake of his breath, along with the quickened heartbeat. Stiles closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. God Scott wanted to kill himself! He would do it right now if he had any respect for his friends. He looked at Stiles and slowly reached out for his arm. He gently touched his arm, trying to comfort his friend.

"I'm so sorry." He quietly said. Stiles looked up at him and sadly smiled. "I know."

They sat in silence as they waited for Stiles' dad and the ambulance to arrive. During that time, Scott tried to replay what he did in his mind. Yet, it was all just a black blur. What exactly did he do during the attack? Did he say anything?

"Hey, Stiles," Scott said, breaking the silence. "Did I say anything to you when I was changed?" Stiles looked up and almost laughed at the question. Yes, he said many things. One, though, seemed to stick out the most to him.

"Yeah, you did actually. You threatened to rape me." He said, looking Scott in the face as the shear horror spread across it. Scott almost vomited; he had felt the bile rise from his stomach into his throat but so how managed to choke it back down. He started to freak out in his mind, mentally stabbing himself over and over again. Did his wolf side actually say that? Oh God, did it do anything like that to Stiles? Scott looked at his friend and tried to form the words he was too afraid to ask. Stiles knew what he was going to say, so he just shook his head.

"No, you didn't touch me. Not like that, at least." Scott let out the breath that he didn't even realize that he was holding in. Just then, they heard the sirens coming down the street. They pulled in front of the house. Stiles immediately saw his dad running toward him, seeing the terror on his face when he saw his son. Scott watched as Stiles' dad began to tear up as he spoke to his son. He watched as they put him on a stretcher and hauled him into the ambulance. He wasn't going to follow until he made eye contact with Stiles before they closed the doors. They had one of those mental conversations that only best friends have. He looked at him and read Stiles' eyes: _I forgive you._ After he heard that, he jumped into his car and followed the ambulance to the hospital.

**Sorry, I am aware that this was an EXTREMELY boring chapter. But I had to set it up so that they would go to the hospital. Saying that "after they got to the hospital" in this chapter seemed too easy and lazy too me. So, yeah. DON'T WORRY THOUGH. Definitely more Stiles angst in the next chapter, and more ACTION in like 2 or three :D I'll try to keep up with the chapters, but no promises…**


	3. Chapter 3

**I apologize for my absence. Busy, right? You have all been very patient with me and I appreciate that deeply. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter so I will let you guys decide. I didn't read it over so I am sorry for any type-o or weird sentences; it's late haha. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own. **

Stiles was admitted to the hospital. It took the doctor two hours to finish stitching and patching him up until finally he could rest. His dad and another officer came in to question him about his attacker but he claimed that he had a mask on and didn't say anything. He even said (with just a hint of hesitation) that Scott had saved him. Of course, his dad was not going to give up that easily so he went on a blind goose chase to find Stiles' attacker, which was actually Scott. Scott had waited outside the whole time waiting to see his best friend. He wasn't sure if he should even be there. Would Stiles' even feel comfortable with him there? Probably not. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't just leave him alone in the hospital. Scott knew Stiles was trying to act like he was fine, but Scott knew him better than that. He had tortured his best friend for God sake; of course he's not going to be fine! Scott wrestled with his thoughts until a nurse came out of Stiles' room and told him he could come in now.

Scott hesitantly entered Stiles' room. What he first saw was the figure of Stiles' lying in bed. Books and movies always say that the person looks smaller and frailer in a hospital bed. Scott had always thought they were full of crap until he saw Stiles. He really did look small and frail, like one touch could shatter him into a million pieces. Stiles had his arm in a thick white cast limply sitting at his side. His chin was all scratched up from hitting the pavement, and the rest of his upper body was wrapped in bandages with his blood slowly seeping through. But the worst part of seeing him was that he looked so damn tired. He looked like he had just given up almost. This was a side of Stiles that Scott vowed to never see again. He promised himself that if he ever hurt Stiles again, he would personally kill himself.

After a few seconds of Scott just staring, Stiles finally opened his eyes to look at his best friend. Stiles let out a big sigh and closed his eyes in exhaustion. Scott walked over to the plastic chair and sat next to Stiles.

"Stiles, I-"

"Before you say anything," Stiles interrupted. "I would totally feel better if we just forgot this whole thing. You know? I mean, I think it would be best for both of us if we did." Stiles said looking at Scott. Scott nodded. This was the classic method of Stiles. Forget and all is back to normal. In some ways, Scott really wanted that theory to be true. And yet, Scott knew he could never forget about it. Neither could Stiles.

"But Stiles, if there is anything I can do for you, seriously anything, just let me know." Stiles almost laughed at the question. There were a lot of things that he wanted. He wanted Lydia to be in love with him, he wanted Scott to be normal, he wanted to not be in so much damn pain. Realistically, though, there was really only one thing.

"Just try to keep your emotions in check. Especially with the full moon coming."

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

After visiting hours had ended, Stiles fell into a deep sleep. Actually, he fell into a nightmare. He dreamt of Scott going wolf again; his dark, red eyes leering at Stiles. He dreamt of Scott attacking him, cutting him, hurting him. He kept trying to shrink away. His dreams had become so violent in his own head.

Stiles' heart monitor started to rapidly increase as Stiles thrashed around in his bed. The nurses immediately ran into the room, trying to wake him up and calm him down. His body was covered in sweat, his eyes welled with tears. With each violent thrash, it threatened a new injury to his body. His stitches were being ripped open, fresh blood seeping from each. The nurses had done their best to calm Stiles down, but they had to restrain him in order to minimize the self-inflicted damage. He desperately fought against the straps, begging to be released. All the nurses could do was hold him and try to calm him down.

"Please, please…I can't handle this." He said in a shaky voice, still thrashing at the restraints.

"Sir, we cannot take them off unless you calm down!" A few tears slipped from his eyes. His breathing was labored and his body shook from the claustrophobia and fear of being held down. He looked at them with one more fleeting attempt, only to be answered with sad faces.

His father had wildly protested the restraints, but the doctor said that Stiles would not be able to heal if he keeps reopening his wounds. And it definitely did not help that Stiles had to be restrained every night. He felt utterly humiliated and weak. After Scott had found out about these attacks, he felt sickened with himself. He considered cutting for a brief second, until he realized it would always heal, unlike Stiles. Scott couldn't bear to visit Stiles at the state he was in. Why should he hurt Stiles even more than he already has?

After a few days of avoiding Stiles, Scott worked up the courage to go visit him. When he entered Stiles' hospital room, he felt as if he was going to vomit. Stiles lay there, strapped down to his bed looking completely helpless. His eyes were dark from lack of sleep and he could tell that he had just reopened a few stitches. Stiles was still a little shaky from his latest attack but he tried to cover it up when he saw Scott.

"Oh, hey man. What are you doing here?" he asked. Embarrassment filled his voice as he twitched at his restraints. Scott put on his fake smile and stood across from his friend.

"I just, uh, wanted to visit was all." There was a few seconds of awkward silence that followed. Within those seconds, Scott felt a twinge in his stomach. He could smell Stiles' blood and, God, it smelled so good. Scott bit his tongue hard enough to make it bleed, hoping it would distract him from the blood lust that was building inside of him. His mind was screaming at him to get out before he hurts Stiles again, but his feet were glued to the ground. Scott started to sweat because of this uncontrolled urge he had. He even started to panic.

"Stiles, I-I need to go." He said as he rushed for the door. He couldn't hurt Stiles again. Not like this, not when Stiles is like this. Not ever. Then it happened. As he was closing the door behind him, that little twinge inside his stomach exploded into a fiery desire. A desire for blood, for fear. Scott tried desperately to fight this feeling but his wolf senses overpowered him. With the full moon so close, his wolf powers were at their sharpest. Scott turned back around and re-entered the room. Stiles looked up at him in confusion, then in fright.

"Scott?" he asked in a wary tone. Stiles knew what was happening. He knew. And Scott knew that he knew. Stiles' heartbeat picked up and he started to pull at his restraints again. Scott calmly walked over to Stiles and leaned in real close to his face. He smiled at Stiles, baring his teeth. Stiles thrashed even harder at his straps.

"Scott, this isn't you."

Scott snickered at that. He reached his hand out to Stiles' chest and ran his hand over his bandages, toying with his stitches. Stiles' breath hitched and he flinched under Scott's touch. His heart rate was going crazy. The nurses would be in there at any second. In that time, Scott leaned into Stiles' ear and whispered.

"It's so much fun watching you squirm. I wonder how much your dad squirms?" Scott smiled at Stiles' horrified face and then quickly jumped out the window.

"No, Scott! SCOTT!" he screamed as he pulled as hard has he could at his restraints.

**Yepp, it's a cliffhanger. Sorry :/ I do hope that this will satisfy your craving for Stiles angst until my next post :3 **


	4. Chapter 4

**I have no excuse for my absence, I apologize. I appreciate whoever stuck around for this chapter!**

**PS. I said that this was not a slash story, and I meant that. So no worries! **

Stiles laid there in his hospital bed after all of the nurses came in a fussed over him. He had screamed at them to call his dad or to call the police, but they were convinced that it was another nightmare. They did not have time to stop and listen to his ranting. So they calmed him down, patched him up, and went on their way. Since he was awake, his restraints were removed. But Stiles knew damn well that there was no way he could get out of the hospital to save his dad. So there he was, just lying there, probably as his dad was ripped to pieces. Stiles bit his nail frantically as he tried to formulate a reasonable plan. He had already called his dad. Multiple times, actually. But there was no answer. He tried calling Scott to see if he could snap himself out of his blood thirsty rage. No luck there. Only one idea came to mind, but he didn't like that idea. It was too risky. But, it was all that Stiles had. With a shaky sigh, Stiles picked up his phone and dialed the number. It rang a few times before the other end answered.

"What." said the familiar deep voice. Stiles wasn't so sure about this anymore. But the other end of the line was getting impatient with the silence, so Stiles quieted the argumentative side of his brain.

"Derek, I need your help."

Derek could tell by the sound of his voice that Stiles was weak. He sounded desperate and hurt, and he didn't know why. Actually, he did because there is only one reason why Stiles would be hurt. Scott.

"What do you need?"

Derek said every swear word that he could think of as he ran through the woods. Scott, that blathering idiot! He knew that Scott was stupid and out of control, but he had never imagined that it would go this far. He had trained Scott enough to be able to handle his emotions during the full moon, or so he thought. His blood boiled in anger at Scott. Derek planned on tearing the kid apart when he got his claws on him. He continued through the woods until he reached the Stilinski house. He could smell Scott nearby. Derek let out a hushed snarl and tracked Scott's scent.

_That damn kid,_ Derek thought. He couldn't keep images of Stiles being ripped apart out of his mind. He should have been there. He should have known that he was in trouble. He was the alpha for hell's sake! He should have sensed Scott's change or Stiles' fear. God, Stiles' fear. He's so defenseless. Derek should have guessed that this would happen. Stiles hangs out with a bunch of emotional wolves! He should have had his guard up! Derek stopped himself. _No. this isn't his fault, it's mine._

Just then, Derek smelled Scott – he was scaling the house. Scott's claws dug into the house's siding, creating deep holes as he went. That'll be tough to explain. Derek's eyes narrowed and he slowly released his fangs. Scott's wolf form turned to notice the alpha. He let out a loud territorial snarl at Derek. Derek responded with a loud, dominating rawr and bared his fangs and claws. Scott shivered and jumped down to Derek, answering to his power over him. Derek growled as Scott walked up to him and raised his right claw, slashing it across Scott's face. Scott's wolf cried out in pain as his flesh was ripped off, leaving nothing but bleeding gashes. His face, however, quickly began to heal.

"What do you think you're doing?" Derek asked in his venomous voice. Scott slowly turned back into his human form. A look of confusion plastered onto his healing face.

"I..I don't know."

"You don't know? You nearly killed Stiles and was on your way to kill his father and you don't know!" Derek yelled at Scott, taking deep breaths to control himself. Scott brought his hands up to his hair and started head.

"I don't know, Derek! I can't control myself! One second I'm talking to Stiles and the next he's begging me to not kill him!" Derek twitched. "I don't know how or why this is happening, but I can't control it! Every time I'm near him, I just lose it."

"We've spent month's training our emotions, Scott. You know how to control yourself!"

"I thought I did! But this just feels different. I just really don't know." Scott started pacing back and forth, rubbing his head, trying not to freak out in front of Derek. Derek just stood there watching Scott, trying to decipher this whole mess. Scott looked up of Derek in sadness and desperation.

"What am I going to do? At this rate, I'm going to kill Stiles before the full moon even gets here!"

Derek huffed. "I'll tell you what's going to happen. You are not going to see Stiles until we figure this out. You are not going to talk to him. Look at him. Think about him. Got it? If you feel yourself changing, chain yourself up. Just stay. Away. From him." He said this with the utmost seriousness in his tone. He looked hard into Scott's eyes to make sure that he understood him. Scott nodded.

"Good. Now go home." Derek said as he walked away.

Scott looked up quickly and caught the back of Derek's coat. "Just..tell him I'm sorry."

Derek jerked away. "Be ready tomorrow for training." He said as he walked into the darkness.

Stiles sat up all night worrying. After he called Derek, he had continually called his Dad. No answer. He was panicking and he knew it. He tried closing his eyes and remembering that Derek could handle Scott, but it was no use. His dad was being shredded by his best friend. His heart started pounding even harder when he saw Derek calling him. He fumbled for his phone and answered quickly.

"Derek!"

"He's fine. I sent Scott home."

Stiles let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God!" He put his hand to his chest to try and relax himself. His dad was safe, everything was alright. Derek could hear Stiles' heart rate over the phone slowly decrease.

"Everything is fine. I'm handling it." He said, trying to reassure him. Despite the fact that he was completely wrong. Completely wrong. But Stiles did not need to worry for once in his life. He was going to take the burden off of Stiles' back for once. Let him rest. Let him heal. Let him live. Then, once all of this is over, go back to fighting hunters again.

"Thanks Derek."Stiles said with sincere gratitude.

Derek grunted and hung up the phone. _This kid was going to give him grey hair before I am 400 years old_. Derek smiled at his own joke. This was no time for games, he had some work to do.


	5. Chapter 5

**Welcome back my lovelies! I'm so sorry for the long delay! I was having writers block :/ I've been CRAVING some angst Stiles and Derek, so I made this chapter :D Sorry if there are any errors! Enjoy.**

To say that Scott's training was difficult was an understatement. Derek had the training punishment of a lifetime. Scott had crawled into his bed that night thinking it would be easier to just live in a cave for the rest of his life instead of this. This ridiculous training to control himself. Okay, so it wasn't ridiculous. But it sure as hell was painful. Scott shook his head as he painfully turned onto his side. His whole body ached terribly. You'd think that his body would have healed that feeling away. It didn't. Derek was not kind to him at all due to Scott's latest "incident." To be fair, Scott never wanted to do any of it. He never wanted to hurt his best friend, scare him half to death, and threaten his father. Scott would never do that. But for some reason, his wolf did. Even the smell of Stiles' borrowed clothes made the wolf scratch at its cage. Scott wasn't sure what to think. He should probably tell Derek about the wolf thing, though. It did seem like an important detail. But the pain vibrating off of his body made that thought quickly slip away. Scott drifted into a dreamless sleep, unlike Stiles.

Derek had trained the hell out of Scott. He was actually proud of how horrible he made it. Each crack of Scott's bones brought a little justice to Stiles. A little. Derek stalked through his house thinking of preparations for the full moon. His training with Scott wouldn't be completed until afterwards, and that was not good. He'd have to chain the kid down and babysit him for the night. It was the price to pay for Stiles' safety and the safety of everyone in the town. Derek ran his hand over the back of his neck in frustration. Nothing could ever be easy, could it? He let out a small growl and took a deep breath, trying to relax himself. But the one thing Derek knew about himself was that he was incapable of relaxing. He always had to be on his guard, worrying about something, everything, nothing.

Derek needed something to do. He needed to keep sane. He decided to visit Stiles, who had been discharged from the hospital. Derek hadn't seen Stiles since before his attack and he hadn't talked to him since the last phone call. He owed him a visit. Derek grabbed his leather jacket and stalked off to his car.

When he arrived at the Stilinski house, he parked a few blocks away so he wouldn't be noticed. He walked up to the side of Stiles' house, able to hear the loud heartbeat of the boy. The sheriff must have been working another late night because Derek couldn't detect a second heartbeat. As Derek walked closer, he noticed that Stiles' heart had picked up. It beat rapidly in Derek's ears. _Nightmares, _he thought. Sadness washed over Derek as he heard the kid whimper in his sleep. Derek could only imagine how much worse he was going to make Scott's training for the next day. He easily leapt up onto Stiles' window sill, opening it with ease. The kid really should lock his windows. Derek lightly stepped into his room and looked at the sleeping boy. Stiles was strewn across his bed with his sheets tangled all around him. He wore a white shirt with plaid pajama pants. Plaid, he always wears plaid. A few bandages and stitches covered his body, but the bruises and the cast had vanished. _Humans are such slow healers, _Derek thought. Stiles was clutching the side of his bed while his face scrunched in discomfort. Small whimpers escaped his lips as sweat clung to his body. Derek started to approach the boy but something hit him. He took a shaky step back and felt his wolf awake. With wide eyes, Derek straightened himself out and pulled the wolf back.

"Stiles." He said in a low voice. Stiles stirred in his sleep but continued to dream. "Stiles!" Derek shouted with an angry voice. Why was he angry? Stiles awoke with a fright and looked up in Derek's direction, his heartbeat immediately hastened as his body tensed.

"Derek?" Stiles asked with a shaky voice. He was breathing heavy from the nightmare while his body still shivered lightly. Stiles' eyes darted around the room, making sure that no one else was in the room. But having Derek in the room was bad enough. He was still terrified of the guy, and rightly so.

"What are you doing here?" he said with a little more confidence, but not enough to fool Derek. Derek saw Stiles' wide eyes staring back at him and heard his continuously rapid heartbeat. Stiles had been around Derek enough times to be familiar, but he was never comfortable around him. Stiles was always tense and his eyes always darted around, looking for an exit. Just like he was doing now. He probably didn't mean to, it was just his reaction to the wolves. Derek understood. Then suddenly another wave hit Derek – stronger than the one before. He took a deep breath and retained his humanity. Barely. _What is going on?_

"I just wanted to check on you." He said blatantly, trying to keep his voice cool and relaxed. It must have worked because Stiles began to relax a little. A small smile came across his face.

"Oh, thanks." Stiles swung his legs around to the side of his bed, only wincing a little when his back straightened. He turned to Derek, waiting for him to talk. Derek actually hadn't planned a conversation at all. It was an impulse visit, actually. He just wanted to check on the kid, make sure he was still in one piece. Derek rubbed the back of his neck again.

"How are you?" he asked awkwardly. Is this what he was reduced to, small talk? Stiles looked a little confused at his sudden concern. Stiles played with the end of his sheets and looked down.

"I'm fine." Lie.

"You were having a nightmare." Derek said, crossing his arms across his chest. Stiles looked back up at Derek. "I know."

Derek raised an eyebrow to that. Stiles was so obnoxious. Most of the time. But right now he was just being quiet; answering in the least amount of words as possible. He was not fine and they both knew it. Derek took another step towards Stiles when a third wave hit him. He stumbled backwards and clung to Stiles' curtains, trying to pull the wolf back. Stiles stood up with a worried face and started to approach Derek.

"Dude, are you okay?" he said taking another step.

_No. Stupid kid. _Derek turned away from Stiles. "Back up!" He shouted with a growl underneath his angry words. Stiles' heart pounded as he backed up a few steps. His hands begun to sweat as he looked at the door for an escape. He wouldn't be able to outrun the wolf, though. He knew. He fucking knew and it killed him inside how defenseless he was. So he just looked at the alpha with his terrified eyes and waited for the storm to pass in the wolf. _Derek can control himself. _He thought repeatedly. Derek continued to breathe heavily and he shut his eyes, begging the wolf to subside. He slowly released the curtains and returned to his normal self. Barely. He looked back up at Stiles with tired eyes.

"What's happening?" Stiles asked in a defeated tone. He knew that he was doing this to the wolves. He didn't know what or how, but he was.

"I don't know. I keep getting hit with your scent. It's like being hit by a bus; it's overwhelming."

"I'm sorry." Stiles said to the winded man. Derek couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Stiles, it's not your fault. None of this is your fault." He said as his smile fell. Stiles just nodded and looked down at his feet. The scent of guilt washed over Derek, making him feel very sad and, well, guilty too. Stiles should not feel guilty. At all. He should feel joy and happiness and comfort like a normal fucking kid. But he got caught up in this mess. _Fucking Scott._ _Okay, well fucking Peter, then. _Derek needed to leave before he caused anymore trauma to the kid. But as he turned to leave, the fifth and most powerful wave hit Derek, causing him to hunch over the window sill while the craws came out. _No. no, stop._ Derek pleaded with the wolf to go back but the wolf had had enough. He wanted out. So with that, Derek's eyes turned red and his teeth came out. With a swift and blurry movement, he grabbed Stiles by the neck and shoved him into his bedroom wall making the house shake a bit. Stiles gasped and his hands immediately went to the clawed hand around his neck. Derek could smell the panic and desperation from Stiles. _No, no, no. STOP._ His wolf only growled lowly at Stiles, causing him to shake and his eyes to widen.

"No, Derek please." He said quietly. Derek's heart sunk with desperation. He couldn't do this to the kid, not after everything he's been through! Stiles watched in horror as Derek's eyes changed back and forth from blue to red. Derek was fighting. Derek gritted his teeth together, trying with all his might to contain the wolf. But the wolf inside him was strong. And hungry.

With heavy breaths, Stiles tried to look into Derek's eyes. "You can control it."

Derek's eyes flashed red and he snarled as he grabbed Stiles' wrist and pushed it onto the wall. "Shut up!" he shouted, making Stiles whimper in pain. Derek stepped closer to Stiles and moved his hand from Stiles' neck to his other wrist, pinning it beside his head. Stiles had never felt so weak. He had never felt so terrified. Scott WAS the most terrifying before this moment. God only knows what Derek will do to him. Derek brought his nose to Stiles' neck and slowly inhaled. Stiles shivered and squirmed from beneath Derek. Derek only tightened his grip on his wrists and shoved closer to Stiles. Stiles heat beat spiked and his eyes started to water. _No, don't cry you weak bastard,_ he thought to himself. Derek could smell the salty tears forming and his eyes flashed blue again. He felt himself against the trembling boy but the wolf wouldn't let go.

"Stiles…I…" Derek tried in a strained voice. Stiles had to know that he was trying to stop.

"Derek, please stop." Stiles said as a tear slid down his cheek, breaking Derek's heart in the process. The wolf only laughed inside and his eyes turned red again. He pushed his face back into Stiles' neck and ran his teeth over the fragile skin, leaving a small bloody trail behind it. Stiles let out a heartbreaking cry because of the action. He fought underneath Derek; kicking his legs, trying to loosen his wrists but nothing worked. More tears slid from his desperate eyes. And in the smallest whisper, Stiles let out the saddest statement Derek had ever heard from the boy. It was so faint that his wolf could barely hear it.

"Just kill me."

Derek snapped out of it immediately. His wolf was so surprised by the statement that Derek caged the animal back inside of him. Derek jumped across the room, crashing into the other wall in the process. Stiles collapsed onto the ground and let out a few strangled sobs. _So weak, so pitiful, _Stiles thought. His body violently shook as he placed a hand over his eyes, trying to shield his tears from Derek. Derek gripped the wall with his claws and watched Stiles from across the room. He watched the broken boy crumble to the ground and break in front of him. He did this. He broke Stiles. Derek wanted to rip himself apart so badly. Stiles got to his knees but he continued to shake uncontrollably while his breathing was labored.

"Stiles I-"

"I think I'm having a panic attack." He said as the horrible sensation washed over him. He hadn't had a panic attack in years. And as he remembered it, they were awful. Derek watched helplessly as Stiles unsuccessfully tried to calm himself. Derek wanted to badly to help the kid but he knew he couldn't risk it.

"I'm sorry." He said as he leapt out the window.

Stiles watched as he left. Relief washed over him and his body slowly started to relax. Stiles sat down and the floor and leaned his back against his wall. A few tears continued to fall as he hands shook. He raised a hand to his neck and felt the blood along his fingers. He laid his head upon his knees and whispered, "I can't do this."

And Derek heard him. And he had never hated himself so much in his life.

**My poor baby! Sorry for all of the angst guys, but I just NEEDED it. You know? Anyways, sorry if it sounded kinda like Sterek. I didn't mean it! Still straight babies, so no worries! (not that I'm against Sterek, but we have plenty of that to read elsewhere ;) ) So review pleaseeeee and tell me what you think! I have NO idea where I'm going with this so cut me some slack, I'm trying! Thanks! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello my lovelies! Thank you SO much for all the views and comments. I am feeling the love. 3 I'm so sorry, I've been super busy with college and all that fun stuff. :/ but you guys are amazing! Thanks so much for dealing with my laziness!**

Stiles had sat on his floor for a good hour before he had the strength to stand back up. He had focused on his breathing and tried to forget what had just happened. He had felt the blood start to trickle down his neck but he didn't care. He just felt so tired. Eventually, he mustered up the strength to take a shower and wash the blood off of him before his dad got home. Stiles walked into the bathroom and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked awful. Dark circles were under his red eyes. Two long cuts ran down his neck while dried blood sat on his shoulder. Big purple bruises wrapped around his fragile wrists and tender neck. His once well-fed body was now skinny and starved. He hadn't had an appetite in a while and his dad was starting to notice. He didn't even recognize himself anymore.

Stiles stepped into the shower and gently began washing his fresh wounds, avoiding his scarring chest. They weren't as severe as Scott's attack physically but mentally, Stiles was breaking. He tried to keep his normal bouncy façade but it was getting harder and harder each day. He hated what he was turning into but what could he do? Nothing. His crazed werewolf friends all had it out for him for God only knows why. Stiles started to replay what Derek had said about his scent. Was that the issue? It just sounded so bizarre and sudden to Stiles, but he decided to research it later. Maybe he could save himself if he got rid of this "scent" he apparently had. Finishing his shower, Stiles got dressed and headed downstairs. He really did need to eat something, even if he wasn't hungry. He knew that he couldn't afford another problem in his life. His dad surely couldn't either. Stiles saw the way he looked at him. His eyes would beg Stiles to eat, but he wouldn't give in. Most of the time the thought of food made his stomach turn. He had to start eating again, he decided. If not for himself, than for his dad.

Stiles opened the fridge and scanned his options. He settled on some cold pizza that his dad picked up the other night. Stiles grabbed a few slices and sat down at the kitchen table. He ate for a few minutes when he heard his dad's car pull into the drive way. This was probably the first time his dad was home at a reasonable hour, Stiles thought. But then he glanced at the clock and noted that it was 2:30 in the morning. Stiles frowned but quickly replaced his with his fake smile when his dad walked in.

The sheriff walked into the hallway and slowly took off his jacket and gun, placing them in their normal spots. The sheriff looked just as exhausted as Stiles felt. His frown lines looked deeper than normal and his shoulders always seemed slumped. His dad was under a lot of stress lately. But then again, when isn't he? The sheriff walked into the kitchen and looked at Stiles. His eyes softened and he let out a relaxed sigh at the sight of his son eating. He couldn't honestly remember the last time he saw him eat anything. This meant improvement to the sheriff; his son was finally getting better.

"Cold pizza, huh?" the sheriff said with a slight grin on his face. Stiles looked up and nodded his head.

"Yeah, but don't think that you're going to be eating any. You've clogged up your arteries enough with this box."

The sheriff waved his hand, picking up a few slices for himself. "Ah, let a man live."

"That's what I'm trying to do." Stiles replied as he took the pizza from his father. "How 'bout a nice and juicy salad?" he said with a smirk.

The sheriff huffed at that but nodded anyways. He wasn't even that hungry, he just wanted to spend time with his son. Stiles grinned at his dad and got up to start making him a salad.

"How was work?" he asked over his shoulder. The sheriff huffed and ran his hands over his face.

"The usual. Still trying to find that damn robber from the liquor store last week. The video footage is garbage, so we have nothing to go on."

"Don't worry, you'll get him. He's no match for Robocop!" Sheriff chuckled lightly. "Am I supposed to be Robocop in this scenario?"

Stiles walked over and placed the bowl in front of his dad. "Of course! And you know why you're Robocop? Because you are eating all these healthy things."

The sheriff rolled his eyes. He drew a breath in prepared with a response but it got caught in his throat when he saw his son's wrist. The sleeve of Stiles' shirt slid up as he placed the plate in front of his father, revealing a large bruise wrapped around his wrist. The sheriff grabbed Stiles' hand before he turned away and looked at his wrist with a deathly glare.

"Stiles, who did this?" His father looked at Stiles with anger in his eyes. He was almost too calm which made Stiles panic even more. Stiles searched his mind for a plausible excuse.

"Oh, that's nothing. My hand just got caught in a door." His voice shook as he answered and gave a nervous laugh while his dad still griped his hand. But the sheriff only narrowed his eyes.

"Stiles stop bullshitting me! Who did this?" The sheriff shouted, causing Stiles to flinch. Then a thought crossed the sheriff's mind and his voice got real low. "Is this the same person who hurt you before?"

Stiles was starting to freak out a little. He was not prepared for his dad to find out. His mind was racing a mile a minute and he kept wishing that he had just gone to bed instead.

"No, it wasn't him." Stiles replied, almost out of breath. He pulled his hand away from his father and pulled the sleeve back down. The sheriff wiped his hand over his face, letting his anger drain out of him.

"Was it someone at school? Are you getting bullied?"

"No, I swear it was just an accident." Stiles said a little too quickly. The sheriff looked at his son with worried eyes. He examined his face and noticed how ragged his son looked. He wasn't stupid, he knew that something was going on.

"Stiles, you are only hurting yourself by protecting them."

Stiles ran his hand over his head nervously. "I'm not protecting anyone! I swear it was an accident." That time, Stiles could hear the lies in his voice. He wasn't convincing his father, let alone himself.

The sheriff let out a heavy sigh and stood up. "Stiles, I'm not stupid. I know something is wrong. Why won't you let me help you?"

Stiles lowered his head and fidgeted with his sleeves. He felt so bad lying to his dad all the time. He knew he only wanted to help. But what could Stiles say? That werewolves keep jumping him and he is silently going insane?

"You can't help me, dad." And for once, Stiles was being honest. His voice was so quiet that his dad barely heard him, but he heard it. The sheriff slowly began to unravel his hard exterior and sadness flooded his heart. He walked over to Stiles and pulled him into a tight hug. Stiles squeezed back and buried his face in his father's shoulder. The sheriff let out a ragged breath.

"I can't bury you Stiles. I can't…" he let a few tears slide down his cheeks. Stiles had not seen his dad cry since his mom died, and it terrified him that he was crying now. But more than that, it made him feel like garbage. He was putting his dad through so much without realizing it. Stiles' heart clenched and he let a few tears slip away.

"I'm sorry, dad. I'm so sorry."

They stood like that for a while longer until Stiles pulled away and said he was tired. The sheriff could only nod and he sat back down at the kitchen table. Stiles hesitantly walked back up to his room and shut the door. He knew his dad would be taking out the whisky tonight. And that made Stiles cry a little more.

**There you go! I'm sorry all my chapters are so short, but it's all I can muster at this time! And idk if papa stilinski was out of character or not, but I just needed an emotional scene between them. And I SWEAR Stiles will eventually be happy! **** Oh, and at the end, I don't want you to think that papa is an abusive alcoholic. I just wanted to emphasize the point that Stiles hated that his dad drank to ease his pain. Anyways, feel free to comment! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello my lovelies! I UPDATED FINALLY. I just hope this update can express how sorry I am for the delay! I love you all very much and enjoy! :)**

Stiles awoke the next morning feeling like shit. He had passed out face down on top of his covers in the clothes from last night. A dull pain came from his now scabbed-over teeth marks on his neck and his wrists and neck were a disgustingly vibrant purple. He looked at the clock, noting that he had only gotten three hours of sleep last night which, in retrospect, was more than he's had in the past few nights put together. Stiles rolled over into his back and brought his hand to his chest. He rubbed his fingers delicately over his scarred flesh that etched a disturbing message. _Meat_. That's all he was anymore - a slab of weak, defenseless meat. An animal just waiting to be mauled and eaten alive. His eyebrows furrowed at the thought of Derek or Scott ripping him apart, piece by piece. He continued to trace is maimed body until the thoughts and visions became too loud in his head. Stiles sat up quickly and walked over to the bathroom quickly.

He stopped in front of the sink and splashed water on his face, hoping to distract himself. He just kept picturing himself being torn apart, screaming for the pain to end. The images were becoming too real and all Stiles could do was scrunch his face deeper into his shaking hands. He started to feel his chest tighten again when memories of Scott hurting him flashed over and over in his mind. A panic attack was quickly forming. _Stop. I just want this all to stop. _Without even thinking, Stiles started rummaging through his cabinets. Was he looking for his medication? He wasn't sure but his hands just kept moving until they grabbed a small plastic object. Stiles blinked a few times when he realized that he was shakily holding a razor in his hands. He looked back up at himself in the mirror and noticed how steady his heart rate had become with the razor in his hands. A thought crossed his mind that would seem completely morbid for such a situation: _battered boy tries to end his pain by hurting himself. _Makes sense. But for a split second, it _did_ make sense to Stiles. One quick slice in the right direction and everything would be over. Done for good. No more werewolves or feeling helpless or, hopefully, pain. The blade was now resting lightly on his left wrist, ready to strike. Stiles looked back up at himself in the mirror and noticed the tear streaks on his face. He hadn't noticed he was crying until now. And as he kept looking, he remembered how his eyes are brown just like his mom's. His eyes flickered back down to the razor and he threw it hastily across the room and heard it clatter to the floor. Sheer disgust flooded his heart at the thought of killing himself. His mom would have been so disappointed in him. He knew that he was better than this. A new feeling started to creep up inside him that he had not felt in a while. Anger. He was angry at himself for being so weak. He was angry at Scott and Derek for constantly hurting him, even if they don't mean to. He was mad at the universe for taking his mother away from him. He was just angry and tired of all of the bullshit life had thrown at him. And in that moment, he decided that he was not going to be the weak human at the mercy of crazed werewolves. No, he was going to solve the problem, just like he used to.

He quickly changed his clothes and slipped out of the house as to not wake his father. The jeep revved to life as he started it and pulled out into the street.

Stiles had decided that no one would miss him at school for the day. Aside from the fact that Scott would notice since he has been keeping an eye on him from afar. Despite Stiles' protests, of course. But he couldn't think about that right now. There was one person that he knew for sure that could help him.

Stiles pulled into the veterinarian's office a few minutes after it had opened. He hadn't really talked to the vet that much. In fact, he had no idea what his name was besides "the vet/Scott's boss." But he figured since they were both humans among wolves and the fact that the vet was pretty much an expert in all things werewolf-related, it was safe to say that he could provide at least a little help. Stiles got out of his jeep and walked over to the entrance.

Little bells chimed as he opened the grey door. When he walked in, he did not see anyone sitting in the waiting room with their pets and no one was at the counter, so that was a good sign. He could talk to the vet without any distractions. Stiles stood there with his hands in his pockets waiting until the vet came out from the back room. When he saw Stiles, he smiled politely and walked towards him.

"Stiles." He said with a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"Hey." Stiles said with an awkward smile and wave.

"You know, whenever I'd skip class, I normally went to a friend's house and not a place where people would notice me skipping." The vet's attempt to lighten Stiles' obvious tension made him relax a little.

"Yeah, well, I think we both know I'm far from normal."

The vet smiled. "Aren't we all." He placed his hands on the counter. "So what can I do for you, Stiles?"

Stiles played with his cell phone case nervously in his pocket, as if he feared the vet's rejection. "Well, I was, uh, hoping you could help me with something. You see I've been having, uh, wolf problems lately."

"Oh? How so?" the vet questioned. He gestured for Stiles to follow him to the back room, in case someone was to walk in on their conversation. Stiles walked behind him and tried to explain.

"Well I don't know if Scott had mentioned anything about it or not, but he attacked me a little while ago. Which I'm fine now, so, yeah. But then Derek also attacked me yesterday and he said that it had something to do with my scent and I was hoping you'd be able to help. And although I _love _being everyone's chew toy, I'm kind of getting tired of buying new clothes to replace the ripping, bloody ones."

The vet stood there and nodded slightly as Stiles explained everything. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before answering.

"They physically hurt you?"

Stiles looked down quickly, almost as if he was ashamed how easily they made him bleed. "Uh, yeah Scott broke a few bones and sliced me up pretty good. And Derek left this mark with his teeth." Stiles moved the collar of his shirt to show the vet the fang marks on his neck. The vet looked closely and eyed Stiles a little closer.

"May I see where Scott cut you?"

Stiles nodded after a moment of consideration. He was trying to help him, so of course he could trust him. Stiles slid his shirt off and immediately felt embarrassed, not only because he didn't have his shirt on but because how much of a wreck he must have looked to Scott's boss. His scars still had a red tint to them and the message across his chest was the first thing you could see on his scarred body. Next was all the other small and large cuts Scott had given him, especially the deep ones on his back. Then you could now see the still fresh bruises around Stiles' wrists and neck. He must have looked pitiful, he thought. The vet had circled him slowly, taking it all in before gesturing that he was done. Stiles quickly pulled his shirt back on and waited for the vet to say something.

The vet had a troubled look across his face and stroked his chin as he continued to look at Stiles. "You mentioned your scent?"

Stiles let out a sigh of relief that he didn't ask any more questions about his scars. He just nodded and tried to remember what happened last night. "Yeah, Derek was checking on me last night and he kept saying that he was getting hit with my scent. Then he went all alpha crazy and started to attack me. But it was weird; he kept changing from wolf to back to Derek. He didn't seem to have any control over the wolf."

"Stiles, I think I know what's going on."

**CLIFF HANGER. I know, I'm cruel. Oh I am also thinking of bringing Isaac into the story, what do you think? **

**And I wasn't sure how to portray the vet, so I hope it wasn't too ooc. Plus, I could not for the life of me remember what his name was. Maybe next chapter I won't be lazy and actually look it up (if he has one..). Anyways! I hope you are all having a lovely summer and I will see you at the next chapter!**

**Feel free to review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay I'm an idiot. I KNEW his name was Deaton! Just pretend I never forgot. And can I just say that you guys are seriously the best? Your dedication to this story is what keeps it going, so I am eternally grateful for your support. I love you all so very much! Anyways, here is your update!**

"_Stiles, I think I know what's going on."_

Stiles' head snapped up and looked at Deaton. "You do!? What, what's happening to me?!"

Deaton sighed and placed his hands on the table.

"I feared this would happen. It's the downside of being human in a wolf pack."

"What does that mean?"

Deaton gestured towards a few chairs in the backroom and sat down. Stiles' leg bounced rapidly while he rubbed his sweaty hands together nervously.

"There are only a few reasons why a human would ever be in a wolf pack: to be a mate or to eventually to become a wolf. You are neither, which causes problems in the pack. You have been with the pack for a long enough time that your scent is starting to become too familiar. The wolf inside does not like the scent of humans because they do not smell like pack. There is no bond between a wolf and human unless they are mates."

"Wait," Stiles said, starting to feel overwhelmed by the amount of information. "Derek had said that there were humans in his pack before the fire."

"Yes, he did. Only those humans were family – blood relatives. The wolf is already connected to those humans without the need to form any other bond."

"What about Allison or Lydia? Or any other kids at school with us?"

"Lydia, it seems, is immune to the wolf. And Ms. Argent has already been claimed by Scott's wolf, making her a mate. Once the bond has been created between the two, no other wolf will feel threatened by her because her scent will be blended with Scott's. The students at school do not interact with the pack enough to cause any serious problems. The wolf doesn't like them but the human side can normally pull back enough without even realizing it. That is what the pack has been doing for you up until this point. The human side knew you were not a threat and accepts your human qualities. The wolf, however, has been growing more agitated by your presence and has been trying to fix the issue. From what you have described to me, it sounds like Scott's wolf has settled on the idea of eliminating you from the pack while Derek's wolf wants to change you instead."

"So…Kate was Derek's mate then? That's why she was safe?"

Deaton nodded. Stiles ran a head over his head, piecing together the horrible truth.

"Do Scott and Derek know all of this?" Stiles asked nervously.

Deaton shook his head. "No, I don't think either Scott or Derek even realize what is happening. Both are more in tune with their human sides and don't realize how much the wolf needs to change your scent. I believe that your scent overpowered them so much that the wolf took the chance to take control."

Stiles sat stunned for a moment, trying to digest everything Deaton had said.

"So basically I have to be either killed, turned, or fucked?" Stiles laughed tensely.

Deaton remained silent and watched Stiles with sympathy in his face. Stiles couldn't handle it any longer and started pacing in the room. He started running through a list of possible ways to fix this.

_Okay so either be killed, turned, or fucked – great. Well I clearly don't want to be killed, so let's just take that one off the table right away. Turned? I…I don't know. I promised myself that I would never let myself be turned, ever. I mean look at what werewolves have gotten me into? I would never want an incredible urge to kill someone just because they smell too human! I mean, how messed up is that! No, I would never want to put that burden on someone. I couldn't. So being turned isn't an option either. Being fucked? _Stiles laughed. _That's not happening, moving on. So none of my immediate options are going to happen. I could run away, move to a different town and start a new life. But at 16, and with dad being the sheriff, there is a slim chance of that actually working. Besides, I could never do that to dad. I've already put enough stress into his life by just being me. I would never leave him alone, anyways. I don't think I could…Okay so things aren't looking good. Maybe I could just stick it out. I mean, life is actually pretty terrible for me right now and I'm about 5 seconds away from going insane via nervous breakdown, but maybe I could stick it out for another 2 years. Maybe if we explain the situation to the pack, they'll be able to control themselves enough not to kill or turn me. _

Stiles stopped pacing and turned back to Deaton.

"If we explain the situation, will they be able to control themselves?"

"Unfortunately, even with the knowledge of the situation, your scent is too strong to ever let the human side win over the wolf."

He grimaced at that and threw his hands up in frustration. "So I'm pretty much screwed then! My crazy werewolf friends are going to kill or turn me because I'm so excruciatingly human! What the hell am I supposed to do with that? I can't help the fact that I smell wrong to them. So I'm supposed to just let them turn me to make their little werewolf selves feel better? I don't think so. I would rather be killed than turn into a psychotic killing machine with crazy senses and super strength."

Deaton stared at Stiles after he had calmed down enough to sit back down. All of the anger slipped away and Stiles was once again consumed by worry and sadness.

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" His voice was so quiet. He buried his head in his hands and took a deep, shaky breath. Deaton watched him a little longer then stood up and started looking through his cabinets.

"Stiles, I may be able to help you but…" his voice trailed off as he continued to search around the room.

A twinge of hope erupted in Stiles' heart. He lifted his head from his hands and watched Deaton.

"You can?"

Deaton pulled a small jar out and walked back over to Stiles and stood at the table. He placed the jar on the table and unscrewed the cap slowly. Stiles could tell from the shade of purple of the powder than it was wolfsbane. Stiles' eyebrow lifted in interest.

"This, as you already know, is wolfsbane. And I'm sure that you are also aware that there are many different kinds of it. Most are only toxic to werewolves but a few are toxic to all living things. This one," Deaton gestured towards the jar, "is toxic to all living things."

Stiles shifted away from the jar slightly.

"However, this type of wolfsbane is also a very helpful tool for werewolves and hunters alike. Once this it is in the host long enough, the scent of the host starts to be masked by the wolfsbane."

Stiles stood up. "Are you serious? Dude, why didn't you _start_ with that information?"

"As I said before, this type of wolfsbane is toxic to all living things, werewolves and humans alike. However, it is more likely to kill a werewolf than a human. If you ingest enough of it, your scent will be masked. But this is not an easy process. There are a lot of risks."

"Like what?"

"Well for one, as a human you have a 60% chance of dying opposed to a werewolf, which has a 95% chance of dying by ingesting it just once. If you live through the first dose, your chance of dying goes down but it is still dangerous. This process is not pleasant. To ingest something so toxic, it will wreak havoc on your body. You will try to reject the wolfsbane, which is a painful process. You may die from the pain itself."

Stiles' leg started bouncing again as he began to process everything Deaton had explained.

"So I can die at any point of using it then?"

Deaton thought for a moment. "Your body should start to accept the wolfsbane after so many treatments but I don't know if the pain will decrease. It may increase with each dose. It all depends on how receptive you become to it."

Stiles looked back at the jar. He took a deep breath as a surge of courage washed over him. "Well I'm going to die anyways. Talk me through it."

**I apologize for any errors; I was too tired to review it. And sorry this was basically all talking but I needed an explanation chapter to ease into the next few. And I know I'm terrible at updating **** But I promise that I will not abandon this story! Anyways, I have big plans for the next few chapters and once I'm not working like crazy, I will write them. Until next time my lovelies **


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes at the end**

Chapter 9

Stiles drove back to his house with the jar of wolfsbane safely secured in the passenger seat. He glanced at it and replayed his conversation with Deaton.

_How do I always get into these situations?_ He thought numbly.

He needed to figure out who will help him with this endeavor. Allison would be his first choice, but she wouldn't be able to tell him if the wolfsbane was working or not. No, he needed someone who was a werewolf. Considering Derek and Scott have both attacked him, and Erika and Boyd were still missing, Isaac was his last option. Unless he wanted Peter's help, but he would rather overdose on wolfsbane than be in the same room as him.

So he called Isaac.

* * *

><p>Isaac's phone buzzed a few times before he noticed it. He was back at Derek's loft, going over some notes for the chemistry test that he had tomorrow. He hesitated when he saw the caller id. Stiles had never attempted to make contact with him before. In fact, he tried his best to stay away from Isaac. His confusion must have showed because Derek, who was sitting on the couch a few feet away, looked at him questionably. Isaac looked over and gave Derek a shrug before swiping his phone on.<p>

"Stiles?"

Derek's ears perked up and he listened in on the conversation. He was curious why Stiles would call Isaac, but then worry flooded him. Was he hurt again?

"Hey buddy, how's it going?" Stiles said, trying his best to sound cheery.

"Um, good…What's going on?"

Isaac glanced at Derek again and noticed the concerned expression that had spread over his alpha's face.

"Oh you know, werewolves, other supernatural creatures, same old stuff. Listen, I was wondering if, uh – if you would be willing to help me with something?"

"You…want my help?"

Derek put his book down. His anxiety about this phone call grew with every passing second. Isaac could feel the worry off of Derek, and it caused his own anxiety to grow. Something must be wrong. Derek wouldn't react this way if there wasn't something really wrong.

"Stiles? Why aren't you calling Scott? Or Derek, even? What's wrong, what happened?"

"That's a loaded question." Stiles laughed nervously. "No, Scott and Derek are fine. I'm fine. I just need some help with something. It requires the help of a werewolf, and although you might be the last person I would call, you're sort of my only hope."

"Wow, you really know how to convince me."

"Okay, that came out ruder than I thought it would. But I just could really use your help here. I wouldn't be asking if it weren't important."

"Derek or Scott can't help you?"

"Uh, no. They are not current options at this point."

Isaac took a second to consider. Stiles would never call him unless it was really important. He may be downplaying it now, but by the way Derek is reacting, it must be something big. Stiles might not be a member of his pack, but he's Scott's friend and he's helped them out before.

"Okay, fine. What do you need?"

"Yes! Okay, meet me at my house. I need you to –"

Derek grabbed the phone from Isaac's hand before Stiles could finish his sentence.

"No, Stiles. Whatever it is you need help with, find someone else to help you. You shouldn't be around a werewolf right now. It's too dangerous and Isaac doesn't have the amount of control that Scott and I have."

Stiles paused, momentarily shocked to hear Derek angrily yelling into his ear. He had jerked his car slightly when he heard the voice, but had collected himself enough to keep driving. He swallowed his unnecessary fear.

"Derek, I know what I'm doing. I found a solution."

"No, you _think_ you know what you're doing. What you're _actually_ doing is setting yourself up to be mauled and killed by an uncontrollable werewolf."

"Dude, I talked to Deaton. We have a plan and I need a werewolf to help me. I don't even know Isaac that well and I'm never around him. I'll be safe for a while."

Derek huffed in frustration. "What do you mean you'll be safe for a while?"

"Deaton said that the problem was my scent. It's too familiar and the little wolf inside of you doesn't like how human I am. But I can fix it, okay Sourwolf?"

Derek looked down at Isaac. Isaac nodded to him, signaling that is was Derek's decision if he goes over to Stiles' house. Derek handed the phone back to Isaac and gave a slight nod to him.

"If you feel like you're going to kill him, run."

Isaac almost made a joke that he always feels that way about Stiles, but he could tell by the expression on his alpha's face that this is no laughing matter. He simply nodded and Derek walked away.

"Stiles, I'll be right over."

* * *

><p>Stiles lounged on his bed while he waited for Isaac to come over. He sent a quick text to Scott telling him that a plan was in motion to fix their problem and that he would update him later. Stiles reached over to his side table and grabbed a baseball that had been sitting there. He threw the ball up into the air and caught it. He continued throwing it while he went over everything in his head. He spent a few minutes like that until he heard a tapping on his window. He looked over and Isaac was crouching, waiting to be let in. He looked uncomfortable. Stiles got up and slid his window open for him.<p>

Isaac leapt into the room and stood awkwardly for a few seconds. He looked over at Stiles and waited for him to start talking.

"Right," Stiles said, walking over to his desk chair. "So here's what's happening. Scott and Sourwolf have gone crazy over the way I smell, which is weird in itself, but they seem set on either turning or killing me. Now, I find both options unfavorable, so I found a way to counteract their obsession with me."

Isaac really looked at Stiles while he was talking. He saw the fang marks on his neck and since Stiles was wearing short sleeves today, he could clearly see the multicolored bruises and fading scars on his wrists and arms. It was starting to dawn on him that this really was a serious situation. Stiles was actually getting hurt. An unsettling feeling grew in his stomach as Stiles continued.

"Deaton and I talked about it, and he said that the best course of action is to scrub my scent clean. Now it won't get rid of it," Stiles said as he turned around to his desk and reached for a drawer. "But it will definitely make my life a lot easier."

Stiles opened the drawer and grabbed the jar. Isaac could immediately tell that it was wolfsbane and backed up quickly. He brought a hand over his mouth and turned towards the open window.

"Stiles, oh my god, that wolfsbane is so strong! What the hell?" he shouted through his hand.

"Don't be such a baby. It's not for you, it's for me. I'm the one who has to ingest it."

"Then what am I here for? So I can pass out on the rug?" Isaac waved his hand wildly toward the ground.

"No, you're here so that I don't die."

Isaac looked over at Stiles.

"This stuff is pretty powerful. If you think it's bad to smell, just imagine what it's like to have this in your body." He gave a half-hearted laugh.

"But you're not a werewolf."

"No, but it's still toxic. One dose could kill me. So I need you here so that doesn't happen. You can use your wolf-y mojo and suck some of the pain out, or at the very least, make sure that I don't off myself."

"Off yourself?"

Stiles looked down at the jar in his hands and let out a small sigh. Man he was tired. "Yeah, I've been told that this stuff is no walk around the park."

Stiles was exhausted and hurting, that much was evident. Isaac couldn't imagine putting yourself through excruciating pain willingly. But he knew that Stiles would do it with or without his help, so he decided that he might as well help if he can. He drew his hand away from his mouth and put it back by his side.

"Okay."

"Yeah? Well, okay then."

Stiles took the lid off of the jar and Isaac almost passed out from it. The wolfsbane was unbearably strong. He turned away again and tried to breathe deeply. His vision was a little spotted for a second but it cleared just as quickly as it came. He turned back to Stiles, who was mixing some of the purple powder into a glass of water. He stopped stirring and held the glass out in front of him. The content sloshed around, looking as unappetizing as is smelled. He was beginning to feel nervous about this for the first time since he got home. But there was no turning back now. Stiles grimaced and brought the drink to his lips.

"Bottoms up."

He squeezed his eyes shut and downed the drink. He wiped his mouth and his foot started tapping nervously. Isaac sat coolly by the window with his arms crossed. Neither one of them knew what to expect. Or how long the effects of the wolfsbane would last. They sat for two minutes in silence before a sharp pain ran through Stiles' body. He hunched over in his chair, wrapping an arm around his waist. Isaac stood up straight and looked over at Stiles. He could sense the growing pain that he was in, but when was he supposed to jump in and help? Stiles wasn't close to dying yet so he decided to wait until Stiles called for him.

The pain throbbed but it wasn't unbearable.

"Maybe this is the worst of it." Stiles said, trying to be optimistic. He was sweating and his hands started to shake. The pain was mainly in his stomach but he could feel it spreading like a wildfire all throughout his body. His head started to pound. His breathing started to quicken as the pain got worse. Now his chest started to hurt. It was a dull pain, but he knew it wouldn't stay dull for long.

Then Stiles fell to the floor, writhing in unfathomable pain.

* * *

><p><strong>Omg I'm still alive! I am so sorry for how long it has taken me to update, but the premiere inspired me. But I do bring news! I have been looking over this story and I have decided that I want to rewrite it and post it on AO3. This will be in the distant future, but I just want to update it and change some of the plot. I will probably finish this story before I do that, so I will let you guys know when I actually do it. <strong>


	10. Chapter 10

***Notes at the end***

**Chapter 10**

Stiles fell onto the floor and turned onto his side. He tried to curl into a fetal position, but his body was trembling so bad that he couldn't hold the position. He brought his shaking hands to his head and grabbed onto his sweaty hair, pulling a few strands out as he shook. The pain was everywhere now and, oh god, it was so bad. It was way worse than he was expecting. It felt like his body was in fire; every inch of him felt the poison in him. If he wasn't currently trying to contain his whimpers and not piss himself, he would've attempted to figure out how it was even possible that the poison was causing him to react this way.

In his frantic haze, Stiles felt a pressure on him.

Isaac was kneeling down next to his body, firmly gripping his arm and chest. Isaac's eyes were blown wide with fear. He didn't expect it to be like this, to hurt like this. He had been shot with plenty of bullets laced with wolfsbane, but it never affected him like this. He wasn't even sure how Stiles was surviving this level of pain.

The wolfsbane was still burning his eyes and making him dizzy, causing his stomach to roll uncomfortably. Isaac could feel his own heartbeat rapidly increasing with anxiety, but he needed to concentrate. He closed his eyes and started to leech Stiles' pain. He could feel the pain radiating in his palm, but after a few seconds, he realized something was wrong. He couldn't feel the pain snaking its way through his veins. Isaac opened his eyes and looked down at his hand and saw the darkness of pain retreating back into Stiles. Isaac tried again, but it still wasn't working. His body was rejecting Stiles' pain.

Stiles thought that he would've passed out by now, but he was deeply aware at the moment. His body continued to jerk and shiver while the pain persisted. He could feel the tears and drool sliding down his face before falling onto the carpet. Blood started to collect underneath his fingernails from scratching at his head. It was too much, this was too much pain. He thought that he would be able to handle it, but he was wrong. The stupid, useless, weak human was dead wrong. He was going to be dead wrong and actually dead if this didn't stop. He could feel himself trying to say something, but it was drowned out by Isaac's voice.

"Stiles…Stiles! Listen to me, it's not working. It's just- I can't take your pain!"

Isaac started to panic. Stiles had put his trust in Isaac and he was failing him, he was dying and Isaac didn't know how to save him.

"I don't know what to do. What do I do? I'm trying, I swear! I-it's just not working!"

Stiles either couldn't hear him, or wasn't able to answer, because he just continued lying underneath Isaac with his eyes screwed shut, tears slipping past his eyelids. Isaac cursed under his breath and reached into his back pocket for his phone. His shaky fingers quickly flicked through his contacts. He was going to call Derek, but at the last second decided on Allison.

It took a few rings before Allison finally picked up.

"Hello?"

"Allison, I need your help!" Isaac shouted into his phone. He could hear how scared his voice was as he began to ramble. "Please, Stiles is overdosing on wolfsbane a-and I was supposed to help and take away the pain b-but I can't! It's not working, and I don't know what to do. I need help, please help me. I don't know what to do. He's going to die, Allison, I can smell it. I just-"

"Isaac!" Allison firmly shouted into his ear. "It's okay, I'm on my way. Where are you?"

"Stiles' house. In his room." He said.

Allison ran into her father's study and went to the closet with the various herbs in it. She crouched down and opened a large wood box.

"What kind of wolfsbane was it? Do you remember what it looked like, smelled like?"

"Uh…" Isaac raked a hand through his hair, attempting to search through his memory. "It was a purple powder. He didn't say what kind but it smelled almost spicy. I don't know how else to describe it. I uh-"

"No that's good Isaac, that's good." Allison grabbed a few bottles of liquid from the wood box and ran to the front door. She threw her stuff into her car and started her drive towards the Stilinski house.

* * *

><p>Allison pulled into Stiles' driveway and quickly jumped out of her car, running towards the front door. She swung it open easily, making her way through the familiar home.<p>

"Isaac!" she shouted as she ran up the stairs.

She stopped at Stiles' room and saw Isaac sitting next to a quivering body, staring worriedly at it. Isaac jerked up when he saw Allison enter the room. The wolfsbane must still be clouding his mind, because he didn't here or smell her coming into the house. He just looked up, surprised, and waved her over to him.

"He's dying, Allison." He said in a tight voice.

Allison knelt down next to Stiles and placed her bag beside her. Her heartbeat drummed in her ear as she looked over Stiles' frail form, taking stock of what was happening to his body. He was far too pale; his muscles jerked and strained every few seconds while he continued to pull at his damp hair. She could see that most of the pain was in his stomach, the way his body tried to curl into itself, as if making himself smaller would minimize the pain. She put a hand to his forehead and felt the heat radiating off of his skin.

"Okay," she said under her breath. "Okay. How long has he been like this?"

"15 minutes, maybe 20." Isaac paced across the room, rubbing his arms and keeping his eyes on Stiles.

"And he ingested it, right? He didn't use a needle or anything?"

"No, no. He definitely ingested it. I watched him do it. He mixed the powder with some water."

Allison nodded and reached for her bag, rummaging through the bottles together until, at last, she found what she was looking for. She pulled out a bottle and waved Isaac over to her.

"Okay, lift him up enough so that he can drink this."

Isaac grabbed Stiles' shoulders and quickly positioned himself behind him, so that he could support Stiles' weight. Allison took a deep breath and started to pour some of the liquid into his clenched mouth.

"Isaac…" Allison pulled the bottle away. Stiles needed to open his mouth more, or else nothing would make it into his system. Isaac nodded, noticing the same issue, and grabbed onto Stiles' jaw, opening his mouth. Stiles, though very weak at this point, must have noticed the movement, and started to pull away from Isaac and Allison. He jerked his head back and started to claw at Isaac's hand on his jaw. Isaac threw an arm around Stiles' middle, pinning his arms to the side of his body, and held on tightly.

"Hurry." Said Isaac.

Allison poured the rest of the bottle into Stiles' mouth. When she pulled away, Isaac quickly covered Stiles' mouth with his hand, so that he didn't just spit the liquid out. Stiles weakly fought back against Isaac. Tears continued to leak out of his eyes, both from the pain and this foreign invasion into his body. He couldn't remember where he was or why he was pinned against someone's chest. There was a shushing sound coming from someone in front of him, but it hurt too much to focus on anything. Eventually, he realized, he had swallowed whatever it was forced down his throat.

There was a moment of stillness before the room erupted into movement. Stiles' eyes flew up and he lunged forward, grabbing onto his stomach. He let out a gasp at this new and terrible feeling. He could feel the fire bubbling up his throat, trying desperately to escape from his body, clawing its way to the surface.

Allison watched as Stiles lurched forward in pain.

"Bathroom. Now." She said with certainty. She grabbed onto one of Stiles' arms and began to pull him up. Isaac took most of his weight and together, they carried him to the toilet. They barely made it as Stiles lurched forward again and began expelling the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. Isaac could smell the wolfsbane mixed with acid leaving his body, and covered his nose with his hand.

They both held onto Stiles as he continued to rid himself of the poison.

"What did you give him?" Isaac asks.

"Ipecac. It's used in emergency rooms for people who have been poisoned." Allison replied.

"And you had that at your house?"

"Well, my dad and I deal with wolfsbane regularly. We always have to have some way of curing it. Humans get hurt by it too."

"Yeah," Isaac said in a breathy voice. "I can see that."

After what seemed like an hour, Stiles finally had nothing left to throw up. His head was still pounding and his arms wouldn't stop shaking, his body still felt too hot, but he could feel the soft embrace of sleep covering him. Stiles passed out to the feeling of two pairs of hands placing him on his bed.

* * *

><p><strong>Hi friends! Major THANK YOU to all how have reviewed and continued to read my stories; it means the world to me! Once again, sorry for the delayed update. Honestly, season 4 disappointed me and it killed my motivation to keep writing this, but I'm bouncing back. Thank you for your continued support 3<strong>

**ALSO, I have zero knowledge of wolfsbane, how it works, and it's various other qualities. I know that there is (most likely) not one that is like the wolfsbane I am describing, so just know it is solely plot-serving at this point. ****  
><strong>


	11. Chapter 11

***Notes at the end***

**Chapter 11**

Allison wiped the sweat and remaining tears off of Stiles' face with a warm washcloth. She looked over his sleeping body to make sure that there was nothing that needed immediate attention. Stiles, even when he was sleeping, looked exhausted. She traced her eyes over the fading bruises and scars on his arms and felt her heart tighten.

Isaac stood by the window and monitored Stiles' heartbeat. He seemed alright, considering everything that had just happened. The only stress that Isaac could sense in the room was coming from Allison. He looked over at her and met her eyes.

"Let's go downstairs." She whispered.

Isaac nodded. They made their way downstairs and stopped in the living room. Isaac looked down at his shoes and continued to listen to Stiles' heartbeat.

Allison folded her arms and let out a tired breath. "Now that no one's dying, mind filling me in here?"

Isaac sat down on the arm of the sofa and rubbed his hands together. He hadn't noticed how shaky he was until now.

"Stiles told me that he was trying to mask his scent. He said it had something to do with Scott and Derek attacking him, but I don't know much more than that." Isaac's looked down at his hands. "I guess that's how he got those marks on his arms."

"Yeah, I figured as much."

Isaac looked up confused. "Wait, you knew about all this?"

"Not that he was going to poison himself with wolfsbane. If I had, he wouldn't have even gotten his hands on it." She snapped.

Isaac recoiled into himself and rubbed his hands together faster. Allison scolded herself for yelling at Isaac because honestly, she knew he was only trying to help. She softened her voice before continuing.

"I didn't know about Derek, either. I thought that Scott was the only one who had attacked Stiles." She could feel the guilt welling up inside her. "I knew that Stiles was getting hurt, but I didn't do anything about it. I thought that keeping Scott away from him for a while would keep him safe until we looked into it, but I guess we never really got around to it."

Silence lingered in the room.

"We've all been pretty shitty friends lately, huh?" Isaac said quietly.

Allison let out a dry laugh. "I think shitty is an understatement. We're a pack; we're supposed to look out for each other."

Isaac nodded. The pack had been there for him when he needed them, now it was their turn to help Stiles. He just hoped that they weren't too late. Isaac didn't completely understand what was going on, but he knew that he would help if he could. He glanced over at Allison and watched her pull out her phone.

"I'm going to call Scott. I think he'd want to hear about this." Allison said.

She pressed the keypad and walked towards the kitchen. Isaac dropped his hands to his sides and stood up. The conversation was quiet, but Isaac could still hear the urgency in Scott's voice when Allison started explaining. He listened for a while, but a different sound interrupted his concentration. Stiles was waking up.

* * *

><p>Stiles groaned into his pillow. The memories of the past few hours flooded his mind, causing him to scrunch his eyes together and burry his face in his hands. His whole body was soar, especially his stomach - it ached whether Stiles moved or not. His arms vibrated with new bruises. Wonderful. Just a few more additions to add to the collection.<p>

But more than anything, the most intolerable aspect of waking up after almost overdosing on wolfsbane was the disgusting taste in his mouth. It tasted like death, and maybe that was a bad comparison to make after almost dying, but that's what it tasted like. And his breath probably smelled worse.

Stiles pushed himself up in bed, intending to wobble over to the bathroom to brush his teeth, when Isaac walked in.

Isaac leaned against the doorway and looked over at Stiles. His hair was sticking up everywhere and his clothes were still stained with his sweat. Dark bangs sat under Stiles' tired brown eyes, causing Isaac to break the eye contact. Stiles looked terrible. Not as bad as when he was writhing on the floor, but pretty close.

"Hey, man." Stiles croaked, causing his raw throat to burn.

"Good news," Isaac said. "You're not dead."

Stiles' lips curved up into a lazy smirk. "No, I guess not. Can't get rid of me that easy. Better luck next time."

Stiles threw the covers back and dangled his stiff legs over the side of the bed. Isaac grimaced at the dull pain radiating off of Stiles.

"Maybe you should stay in bed." He suggested.

"Dude, I'm just going to brush my teeth. I think you of all people would appreciate that, with your puppy nose and all."

"I can't even smell your breath. Just get back in bed. If you pass out on the floor, I'm leaving you there."

Isaac started to turn to leave the room but froze when he saw Stiles' eyes widen.

"What?" Isaac asked. Worry blossomed as he quickly scanned over Stiles' body.

"You can't smell my breath?"

"Look, if you think that it's disgusting, then I really don't want to smell-"

"No, shut up, stop. You can't smell it at all? Can you smell anything else on me?"

Isaac folded his arms and concentrated on Stiles. He tried selecting certain areas that tended to emit a strong smell distinct to the human, but…

"I don't smell anything. I mean, I still smell some wolfsbane, and I can smell your scent in your bed and on your clothes, but I can't smell _you_."

Stiles let out a surprised laugh and flopped down back onto the bed. A wide smile spread across his face. He looked back over at the doorway and saw Allison run into the room. He caught her alarmed eyes.

"It worked!" He exclaimed. "I can't believe it worked, oh thank God!"

Relief flooded over Stiles. He could feel the misery and pain from the past few months just slip away; he could finally see the end of this hellish tunnel he'd been crawling through. He thumbed the raised scars on his chest through is shirt, and for once, didn't feel the world crumbling beneath him. He didn't feel like a slab of meat waiting to be ripped apart. His heart thudded against his chest, spreading warmth over his aching body.

He looked back over at Isaac and Allison. Allison gave him a soft smile and leaned against his desk. She was glad to finally see a genuine smile on her friend's face. She hadn't realized how much she missed it. The tension left her shoulder as she let herself relax with the good news, but noticed Isaac growing tense next to her. She looked over at him and saw him frown.

"What's wrong?" she asked, suddenly becoming alert. Isaac shook his head.

"It's coming back."

Stiles' face fell. "My scent?"

"I can barely smell it, but it's there. It's coming back."

A wave of devastation hit Stiles. He could feel his friends' worried stares, but shook them off. Okay, it worked, but only for a few minutes. But the wolfsbane still worked. He just had to figure out a way to make it last longer.

"How long was the wolfsbane in my system before I threw it up?" he asked.

"Isaac said around fifteen to twenty minutes."

Shit, he didn't last very long.

"Okay," he said, organizing his thoughts. "So we just need to figure out a way for me to take it without barfing or dying."

He could hear the imminent argument bubbling from his friends across the room.

* * *

><p><strong>Yes, I know, I've been gone forever. I really am sorry. But rest assured, I've read every message that you lovely people have sent me, and I truly appreciate your passion for this story. But keep your eyes peeled, the end it near. You're all wonderful and amazing, and I hope that you're all having a good start to the new year. Cheers!<strong>


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